


What Bright Eyes You Have, Mr. Wolf

by misfitmonarchy



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, First Meetings, Full Shift Werewolves, Hale family fire, M/M, Meet-Cute, Panic Attacks, Photographer Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Wolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, anxiety attack, in the preserve, soft, the jeep breaks again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitmonarchy/pseuds/misfitmonarchy
Summary: Stiles is a in the preserve taking pictures, a hobby he's been neglecting in favor of his studies; when he encounters a wolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based off the first line prompt "the accident wasn't their fault." 
> 
> I didn't beta or edit this so fair warning if there is some spelling mistakes! This was originally posted to my tumblr: (https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/post/175645788045/what-bright-eyes-you-have-mr-wolf)
> 
> on my tumblr it is accompanied by a little moodboard collage if you would like to see that :) 
> 
> And finally: Please let me know what you think in the COMMENTS!

The accident wasn’t his fault. If there was anything he could stand by, it’s that he was a good driver. With Sheriff Stilinski for a father, Stiles had been drilled into being a conscientious driver since the moment he was allowed to sit behind the wheel. It didn’t hurt that the deputies got their kicks out of pulling him over almost every time they saw him out driving that first year.

Constantly thinking your dad’s deputies were going to catch you speeding or doing stupid stuff tended to make a guy paranoid. 

Therefore this?  _This_? Was most definitely  _not_  his fault. The jeep was nestled against a tree where it had just brushed the trunk, luckily he hadn’t crashed the vehicle when the steering had given out and he’d had to use his e-break to stop from veering off the trail. Of course the one time she breaks down would be when he’s in the preserve. 

“Great. Just fucking great.” He wasn’t mad at the jeep, it wasn’t her fault. She was getting up there in age, it had been his mom’s car after all. Even when she had it the jeep had been a fixer upper. Then again, so was Stiles. They made a good pair. 

Stiles was a photographer, and had been thinking that the preserve would be a good spot for some shots, seeing as not many people came this far out. He’d entertained the idea of maybe even visiting the old Hale house, only a burnt out shell now unlike it had been when he’d been much younger. Stiles doesn’t really remember the family all too well but his dad told him once or twice about visiting them there for a cookout because Talia Hale used to be a lawyer. 

All he really knew about it was that it had burned down one day and that their teacher had told them Cora Hale was in a better place now. She had always sat at near the windows in his class. From what he remembered, which wasn’t much because this had been before he’d been diagnosed with ADHD; she had been nice. There had been many tears in class that day, but the funeral had been private and the only surviving members moved away immediately after. 

Stiles understood completely, when he’d lost his mom he’d tried to run away because he kept thinking every woman with dark hair coming around the corner was her. He couldn’t imagine magnifying that feeling to eleven. He turned off the jeep and climbed out to assess the damage.

He heaved a sigh as he got out, checking over the jeep as if that would magically fix it. Seeing as Stiles was already out here, so he grabbed his camera and decided he might as well get what he came out here for. Before leaving the jeep though, he called his dad. 

“Hey kiddo.” When he picked up, the Sheriff sounded surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his face as he willed the jeep to fix itself with a long stare. 

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” His dad knew him too well.

“That’d be because there is. I am fine, but the jeep’s steering went.”

“St-”

“I’m  _fine_.” He reiterates because knowing his dad, the man won’t believe him until he can see for himself. 

“-iles.” Dad continues over him. “I told you to get it checked out before going out there. You’re lucky you aren’t wrapped around a tree.” And yeah, okay that was fair. 

“Did you miss the part where I told you I’m fine?” 

“Did  _you_  miss the part where you almost  _crashed_ your jeep in the preserve? _Alone?”_

No, he hadn’t missed that part. But making it into a big deal wouldn’t make the bearings fix themselves. “I’m sorry.” Stiles says quietly, knowing that the anger in his dad’s voice is really just concern in disguise. Stilinski men didn’t really talk about feelings, they had more of a ‘ _ignore it until it goes away_ ’ philosophy for the most part. 

“I’ll send someone out to pick you up. Where are you?” 

Stiles lets out a choked out laugh, which makes his dad sigh. But really, there aren’t any signs in the preserve- how would he know exactly where he was? “Listen, I’ll be fine for now, I know my way out and if I need to I’ll just walk home.” Not that he wanted to, it had been a thirty minute drive to get to where he was, it would be a bitch to walk home in the summer heat. 

“No no, I’m going to send Parrish to go pick you up, just keep to the main trail. You  _did_  stay on the main trail, didn’t you?” The suspicion in his tone, asking for confirmation that he actually followed the one request he’d been given this morning, would have been a bit offensive if not Stiles’ track record. He had a tendency of finding himself on the opposing end of his dad’s rules a few too many times to have a right to be offended when he was doubted at this point. 

He’d even been locked in the holding cells at the station a few times before his dad had realized he was using that as an excuse at school to not do his homework. 

“Yeah, Dad. Scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Only because they kicked me out.”

“I’m not sure why you’re surprised, most people don’t appreciate it when you burn down their tent.”

“Okay, but it was  _an accident_ _!”_

His dad knows better than to try an argue, because its  _obvious_  that Stiles is right (it’s not like he threw a flaming a marshmallow on purpose okay?) so all he gets is a heaving sigh on the other end of the line. They end the call when Stiles is forced to promise that he really is going to stick to the main trail while taking his pictures and waits for Parrish to come rescue him and his Jeep.

The preserve is a gorgeous place, a canopy of green shelters out most of the sun, filtering through enough light that it’s not too dark to see but still provides shade. He should be grateful the Jeep didn’t give out in the middle of the street, the summer sun would have cooked him alive if he had to wait for someone to pick him up. A blessing in disguise then. 

Stiles takes his camera, placing the strap around his neck and holding it gently with one hand so it won’t swing as he walks. He’d started to really get into photography when he’d seen the crime scene photographers cataloging a robbery one time when he’d come with his dad to work. After his mom had died he’d done that for a while. 

He’d stuck to his dad like glue for those first few months until Melissa had coaxed him into staying at their place with Scott more often then not after that. And well- he still was a bit clingy to his best-friend. 

Scott- who he would have called to rescue him if he wasn’t busy with his schoolwork. Though they were both attending university, Scott had also signed onto a bunch of committees and had decided to just stay at the school dorms for the summer. Stiles on the other hand, had come home for the summer and planned on getting a summer job. Only- the job part hadn’t happened so here he was, the first week of July and focusing on his photography he’d been neglecting since September due to being busy with his studies. 

It felt good to have the camera in his hands again. It was a familiar and grounding weight around his neck that helped him express himself in a way he’d never expected to. When he’d first gotten into the hobby he hadn’t expected himself to have enough of an attention span for it to last, throughout most of his life Stiles had gone through several phases- none of them had lasted other than lacrosse and photography. 

Photography helped him say things he didn’t have the words to. Could force someone to see from his perspective when all else failed to show it from how he saw things. It was a soothing practice if nothing else. 

The ground is covered in leaves, forgotten pine needles and groupings of ferns that have been scoured away from the main path. It wasn’t quite what you’d call a road, for the most part it was still too over grown. But enough people had come and gone through it time and time again to the point that you could follow it well enough. The Jeep fit perfect for these roads, small enough and equipped for the rougher terrain- despite that, Stiles always cringes over every bump on the road. 

He gets a shot of Jeep, pulled up by the tree he’d nearly hit and dirt giving her a dusty look. He takes a few more before he’s satisfied and slowly wanders down the trail. 

It’s when he’s getting a shot of a crow perched on a branch farther up in the canopy that he hears the quick paced sounds of running. At first he assumes it’s a deer, but those tend to be rather quiet, due to being a prey species. The running is closer now, crashing through the brush without a care for whoever might hear it. 

Stiles can feel the moment his heart kicks up, because it lurches so hard it almost hurts him. “Hello?” He calls. 

No answers. 

Please be a rabbit.  _Please be a rabbit_.

The crashing slows down, it’s closer now. Whatever  _it_  is, it’s aware it’s not alone anymore. In fact the silence that follows is almost jarring. Even when it’s quiet in the preserve, it’s never  _quiet_  in the preserve. There’s birds, squirrels and other small animals constantly chattering and tweeting. It’s never... It’s never like _this_. This kind of quiet is when there’s a predator nearby. 

“Shit...” He gulps, backing away from the noise. Leave it to Stiles to have his Jeep break down and get eaten by a bear. All in a days work, right? Are there even any bears in Beacon Hills?

He clutches his camera to his chest as if it’s going to protect him if whatever animal is stalking him chooses to pounce. With his heart in his throat and his nerves shuddering through him like electricity, he wonders if he runs fast enough he’ll be able to lock himself in the Jeep. 

It’s only now he realizes that he wandered off farther than he’d meant to. 

At this point he’s probably fairly close to the old Hale house actually- not that it will do him any good knowing that now. Stiles starts over thinking. 

What if no one finds him? What if he actually  _dies_. His dad would- oh god his  _dad_. 

The bushes shudder as a huge body lunges out at him. Stiles shrieks, throwing his arms up but it does nothing to stop the heavy weight knocks him down. 

“PLEASE DON’T EAT ME!” He yells even though as he hears it, he’s not stupid enough to think the animal will understand. Or care, for that matter. The ground is hard and digging into his back but the thought is lost when he both hears and feels a nose snuffling against his face and neck.

“Fuck fuck fuck-” He panics. Of course he does. Stiles can feel his breaths shortening and getting caught in his too tight throat. A familiar prickle at the back of his scalp of terror shoots through him. 

Against his will he opens his eyes and- 

A wolf.

 What? No. There’s no wolves in Beacon Hills. But there it is. All in its furry fury. It’s almost unfair how something so dangerous is also gorgeous, he wouldn’t have been able to look away if he wanted to. 

“Holy-” He can’t get more than that out because the black shaggy wolf growls when he tries to wriggle free. Oh shit. Oh shit shit shitty  _shit_. “U-Uh.. G-goo-good doggy... Please don’t kill me...” He slowly tries to squirm free again, but the wolf isn’t having any of it. 

It snaps it’s teeth again at him and the panic makes his breath stutter to a complete stop. He was  _totally_  going to die. It’s eyes watch him carefully, no longer snuffling his face but pulled back to look down at him regally. It looks like it’s going to kill him. It really does. Stiles is frozen where he lay sprawled under the canine, worried that sudden moves will encourage it to attack.

So he waits. He waits for it lunge, to attack or maybe even run off.

But it doesn’t do anything. It just stands over him, panting as if it had run across the preserve just to knock him down and now... what? Stand over him?

Not that Stiles is really complaining but- he really doesn’t want to be under a wolf. For any reason at all.  He’s about to take his chances in trying to kick the wolf off him when it tilts its head to the side instead, like it’s listening for something in the distance. It shouldn’t be hard seeing as there’s not a single noise around them other than the breeze rustling the leaves. 

Stiles really fucking hopes it hears something much more appetizing waltzing around. He forces himself to take deep breaths. Passing out from oxygen deprivation won’t help him any. 

When it still hasn’t attacked him, Stiles can’t sit still any longer. It doesn’t look like it’s going to hurt him or it would have done so by now. He hopes. 

“You’re not so bad? Huh?” He can’t help himself when he touches the furry shoulder above him. He could almost  _hear_  his dad’s voice in his head demanding him what the hell he was thinking trying to pet a wild animal. One who had so many teeth. 

But the wolf doesn’t seem to mind. Stiles lets his fingers slide a little higher, using the motion to slowly sit up. The wolf growls a little at him when he does it, but after freezing and waiting for it do something about it, he ignores the warning and sits up fully. Like this, his face is level with the wolf, and he can see it’s eyes clearly. 

He’s never seen an animal with such a sharp blue in their iris before. It reminds him that his camera is still around his neck. It brushes against the wolf’s chest as he let’s his fingers wander to it’s ears on instinct. 

“Not such a big bad wolf, are you? Hm?” It lets out a heavy sigh that could have passed for a growl if Stiles hadn’t already been subjected to the deep noise already and could tell the difference. It keeps it’s stance over Stiles’ legs, but he doesn’t mind so much, more focused on the potentially dangerous wolf in front of him. 

“My dad would totally flip if he saw you. Hell- I’m still kind of freaked out. Not cool by the way, dude. Or dudette. I guess. I dunno.” Stiles doesn’t think it would let him check that fact though. “Not sure why you jumped on me, but if you just wanted some sweet petting I totally would have offered sooner.”

It’s weird, but talking to the wolf is much easier than he thought. He’d never had pets during his childhood and wondered now, vaguely in the back part of his brain that always had ten thoughts on the the go; if this was the true appeal of a pet. Not the cool toys or playtime; but having someone listen, even if they couldn’t answer. 

“Seriously, I thought you were totally going to rip my throat out or something.” He complains but the wolf is now leaned heavily on Stiles’ hand, encouraging the ear scritches. When he pauses he gets a chuff in return to continue. 

“Hey think you’d let me take your picture?” He asks the animal, smiling at it and wondering what he’d ever do if it actually answered him. That’d definitely a hell of a story to tell. 

He picks up his camera, there’s dust on it from the fall but it doesn’t seem to be broken or damaged. He scoots away from the wolf, fiddling with the camera and putting it on portrait mode before looking up at the wolf again. “Okay-”

Only.... 

It’s gone now. It must have run off while he was messing with it. Stiles frowns, looking at the direction he came. He can’t even see it anymore- it must have gotten spooked when he stood up. Without a picture for proof, he figures no one will believe him. 

When Parrish picks him up, as Stiles predicted, the deputy doesn’t believe a word of it. Tells Stiles to drink some water and that he probably got heatstroke while waiting to get picked up. He doesn’t mention the wolf to his dad. 

But he doesn’t forget about it either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns to the preserve in search for the wolf. He finds a grouchy man instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard you guys wanted more! I just couldn't stop thinking about this! as always, I won't make any promises that this will continue from here. These are simply drabbles from my tumblr. 
> 
> follow me there at misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com 
> 
> on that blog you can find brainstorms, moodboards, more drabbles that havent been posted here and well- ME :D

When Claudia Stilinski had died, Stiles and John had kept her alive in their thoughts. Too alive, perhaps. She lingered in every single one of their family traditions, the old and the new, much like they’d always had brunch at the same diner at least once every month or two. 

Claudia had always insisted that it was the only time she seemed to have her husband to herself when he’d been a deputy back then- long hours doing all those rookie hours had made it tough to be home all the time. John always had wondered if she and the boys at the station had been in cahoots; because every time she’d insist on him having the day off for brunch and family time it  _ just so happened _ that he was scheduled to have it off anyways. 

When she had been in the hospital they’d stopped doing it, John spent his days off at the hospital and Stiles practically lived there when Melissa had a shift. After her passing, it had only started up again after a few months. But now, Stiles and John took it as a day to think about her, as if she were there with them while Stiles let his dad have a plate of too-greasy foods in exchange for salads the rest of the week. 

“So. Did the garage tell you when the Jeep will be done?” The sheriff asks, drawing Stiles from a reverie in which the brunette waitress they’d just given their orders to had been Mom. The lady’s name was Laura, he’d seen the name tag and her face looked nothing like Mom, but their hair was the exact color…. “Stiles. Garage?”

Right. “Sorry. Daydreaming.” He rubs his face tiredly, pressing fingers into his eyelids to rub away the vision. “Ummm..” With a sigh, Stiles cracked his back while he tried to recall what Mo had told him about his baby. “Pretty sure he said it’d be done in a few days. I was actually going to ask you if I could bum a drive back to the preserve? I wanted to take some more pictures out there.”

His dad raised a brow and hummed. “A drive, huh? This have anything to do with that dog Parrish said you saw?”

_ Dog? _ No, even now, after researching online; Stiles was one hundred percent certain it had been a wolf. 

“What?” Stiles’ voice might have stumbled over an octave but he shrugged at his dad. “Noooo…” He chuckled and busied his fingers with ripping apart a paper napkin on the dark cherry tabletop. 

“And  _ how _ , exactly, are you planning on getting home? I won’t be off work until late tonight. I’ve got a double tonight.”

_ Well shit. _ Stiles hadn’t really thought that far, he’d been mostly thinking about seeing if he could find the trail that the wolf had taken and find it again. Both out of curiosity and to make sure he really hadn’t been hallucinating from too much sun exposure. 

“Uh….” He answers intelligently, looking over to the waitress station as if that would make their food appear magically. “Hadn’t really thought that far yet.” Might as well be honest,  _ right? _

“I don’t want you wandering the woods alone.  _ Especially  _ if there is some big dog on the loose.”

“It wasn’t some  _ dog _ .” Stiles says, groaning a little as he runs fingers through his  _ already-longer-than-usual-hair _ . 

“Oh  _ riiiight _ . Wolf. Sorry.” The sheriff rolls his eyes. His condescending tone is playful but Stiles can’t help the adverse reaction to being babied that rolls off in waves of annoyance. Instead of rebuking it though, Stiles just glares at the napkin he’s shredding, first in long strips and then tearing those strips into little squares. “Look, son. Unless you have a way back I’m not going to drop you off in the woods. Like you said, there might be a wolf in those woods. I don’t want you in there alone.”

“ _ I’m not twelve, Dad. _ ” 

“In my mind, you’ll always be twelve, son.”

_ “Daaad!”  _

“Don’t you  _ ‘daaad’ _ me. Figure out a drive back or don’t go.” Apparently being twenty years old doesn’t do anything to keep your father from treating you like a five year old. Stiles scoffs, picking up a new napkin to destroy.  _ Where the hell was their food?  _

He opens his mouth to ask if getting a drive rules out asking one of the deputies to get him later on; but the raised brow he gets in return over his dad’s coffee mug tells him that he won’t like the answer from that, either. Stiles huffs out a loud sigh, perhaps a bit more dramatically than needed. 

Why was it that his dad had to pay attention to him  _ now _ , but had let him get away with just about anything as a teen? This was  _ ridiculous _ . The most dangerous thing in Beacon Hills was probably this very diner, with its heart attack food and overpriced milkshakes that basically just tasted like melted ice cream. Not exactly worth $12.99 each. 

By the time their food comes, Dad hasn’t caved. No amount of bargaining seems to sway the man. Which makes Stiles roll his eyes, because really- there hasn’t been any danger in the preserve since the Hale house fire ( _ which had been a freak accident anyways _ ) and that was about eight years ago anyways. 

“Is that everything?” Laura, the woman who had sparked daydreams of his mom is smiling at Stiles now. He notes how much sharper her smile is compared to the soft tired one he’d been thinking of, one that made him smell the antiseptics and chemicals of a hospital without being in one. He notices now, that she looks nothing like Mom, and it’s a little strange that he’d ever thought they had similarities now that she’s right in front of him. 

“I think we’re good. Dad?” he glances over to the older man who is already picking up his burger to take a bite out of it. The man shook his head and offered her a small thank you before relishing in his greasy burger ( _ it didn’t have the extra bacon he’d wanted but at least Stiles was letting him have red meat. John was going to take what he could get _ ).

“Alright. Enjoy!” Her blue eyes crinkle at the edges. She was a beautiful woman, Stiles wonders why he never noticed her before. Once she leaves he turns to his plate of curly fries and club sandwich. If it weren’t for the heat he probably would have got a burger too- as it was though, no matter how desperate the sheriff was for a bite of red meat; it was also over 30 degrees and the sun hadn’t even peaked yet. 

“Has she always worked here?” Beacon Hills is the type of place that doesn’t really get new people settling down often. He thinks he would have heard about it if a new family came to live there recently- then again he  _ has _ been at school. It was strange to think a town he knew so well could become so foreign. Not even as the sheriff’s son, just a member of the town in general- it was weird not to recognize people. Everyone knew each other, one way or another or at least recognized their faces. 

Dad doesn’t even look away from his burger, just swallows a bite and shakes his head a second time. “No, she used to live here, you remember the Hales?” He says in a lower voice; as if anyone in town could possibly forget about it. Stiles frowns. 

“Yeah? So she’s one?” His father inclines his head. 

“Her and her brother moved back to town just before you came home. I don’t know many of the details, but she dropped by the station to finalize some of the legal stuff on their old property.” John sets down his burger. “The old house was foreclosed because it’s somehow still standing. Real safety hazard. Pretty sure the only reason it wasn’t torn down was that Peter Hale. Haven’t seen him in years though. Not sure why  _ anyone _ would want to leave that memory standing.” The sheriff makes sure his voice is low enough to be discreet, he recalls Laura requesting the department trying to keep the gossip as low as possible. 

Stiles is surprised he hasn’t heard about this. He wonders if Laura and her brother were also out in the preserve the other day. He hopes the wolf stays away from them, he’s not sure where the thought comes from. The idea of someone else seeing that wolf might cause some bad repercussions- it’s a tight knot that grips his stomach so tightly and suddenly that a wave of nausea nearly swallows him. 

He immediately wishes he’d never mentioned the wolf to anyone. He doesn’t want anyone looking for it. Doesn’t want anyone to-  _ god forbid-  _ hurt it.

“Do you know if they’re like, rebuilding or something? In the preserve?” Stiles feels impatient now, every muscle feels twitchy. The change in behaviour doesn’t pass his dad- who misinterprets it as Stiles’ patented curiosity. The sheriff frowns at him. 

“You better not go snooping around there, Stiles. I mean it. I’m sure it’s hard enough for them to be making the plans to take the house down without you poking your nose around.” 

“Okay, first of all?” Stiles holds a fry up before waving it at his dad. “ _ Rude _ . Second of all,” he bites the fry passive aggressively. “I wasn’t planning on that at all. I was just wondering if that death trap was finally being taken down.” Stiles crosses his arms as he leans back in the booth to narrow his eyes at his dad. The man seems to be skeptical at best; but doesn’t say anything. 

They enter an impromptu staring contest, to which Stiles scoffs, waving a hand in a ‘ _ What?! _ ’ motion, jerking his head at his father to answer the silent question as he picks at his fries. All he gets back is a rolling pair of blue eyes. Dad looks away first- and Stiles takes that as a victory. 

It’s not like he ever gets in trouble  _ on purpose _ . It’s just a skill he happens to have. Like the ability to consume a whole plate of curly fries no matter how nauseous he felt. Stiles has never been able to turn down the food of the  _ Gods _ . He wasn’t  _ insane _ . 

***

Stiles has Dad take him home before the man goes to work. He waits until Dad has left again before he packs his leftovers from the diner as a dinner and runs up the stairs to get his camera and his book bag. If he couldn’t hitch a drive, then he’d just have to walk. Today was supposed to be overcast, but there’s barely any clouds out. Hopefully that changes, Stiles isn’t exactly sure if the sunburn he’s risking will be worth it. 

_ Hell _ , he doesn’t even know if he’s going to be able to  _ find _ the wolf again. Last time it had found  _ him _ . 

Then again- sitting on the couch thinking about it all day will drive him crazy; so Stiles puts on a quick layer of sunscreen, cringes at the oily feel of it on his skin and seeks out a baseball cap. As an afterthought he grabs a hoodie and stuffs it into his bag incase it really does become overcast. 

The walk isn’t too bad, he sets out with a full phone battery and his backpack decently filled with things he’d need for the afternoon. What Dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? 

_ Right. _

It wasn’t as if there were some big scary monsters in the woods, this wasn’t a B-class horror movie.  _ If it was _ , Stiles thinks,  _ I’d probably have either been eaten or turned into a zombie by now. It’s always the loners that end up dead in those movies. _

As he walks, he entertains the idea- dreaming up ridiculous storyline complete with that cheesy trope of all the characters are teenagers and some crazy adult psycho wants them all dead. As if someone could  _ really _ get a teaching position that fast and easily without the police being suspect of it. Teachers as it were, competed for jobs and struggled to get them; it would be super weird for some new outsider to become one right before mass murder happened and still not be a suspect. He snorts at his mind’s windings- picturing him and Scott as the main characters. 

Maybe he should make it for real, put it up on youtube. As if he has the time to do that… He hadn’t seen Scott in forever as it was. 

That thought bursts his bubble. He misses Scott like crazy. Since exams finished and Stiles came home, they’d been planning for Scott to come back to Beacon Hills even just for a week. It was easier to plan it that way so Scott could see his mom and Stiles at the same time. So far though, summer had been one lonely bust- Scott never seemed to be free or be able to take time off to visit or even just to have Stiles up at his apartment. 

These days, he’s lucky if he gets Scott on skype for over an hour. Before it had been hard to get off the line with the guy. Stiles isn’t jealous. 

He  _ is not jealous _ . Instead he picks at the backpack straps and focuses on where he’s going. 

That’s enough deep thinking for one day. 

By the time he’s breaching the treeline, it’s taken him about twenty minutes from home to walk here and the forecasted clouds he’d been hoping for haven’t come out at all. His pale skin doesn’t look red yet but even with the sunscreen leaving it oily and protected from the rays- Stiles has a feeling he’s burned a little. It’s hard to tell, but he’s sweaty and hot so all he’s focused on right that moment is the gentle kiss of shade from the trees. 

Stiles pulls the pack around to his front while he starts down the trail, pulling out a bottle of water. It’s lukewarm but it tastes amazing in that moment.

“Fuck..” He sighs out. It’s really good that the preserve was shaded by it’s many trees, otherwise he’d have to tap out. He wasn’t so inclined to that, as it involved sucking up his pride and calling his father. 

The guy who told him  _ not _ to go into the preserve. 

Yeah, that  _ wasn’t _ going to happen.

He makes sure to put the bottle back and gets out his camera, pulling the neck strap over his head and letting it thump against his abdomen gently as he trekked deeper. 

The best part of photography, for Stiles, has always been taking pictures of the world from his perspective and getting to communicate how it all looks like to him, to his audience. It helped a lot when he got overwhelmed with the ideas and thoughts in his head. When he struggled get the thoughts and ideas out fast enough yet didn’t have all the words to explain it, the hobby had become a saving grace. If nothing else, it was a great way for him to share his point of view without feeling silly for using too many words or moving his hands too much. 

Many people preferred to see his photography than to listen to him try and explain things, though that reaction isn’t as frustrating now as it had been when he’d first started. 

Then again, he’d also been naive then. Now Stiles understood that being different; even with something small like ADHD, made people see him differently. They didn’t like that he couldn’t ‘ _ just be normal _ ’.

The strap’s weight is a comforting one. It reminds Stiles of how Dad’s hand feels like on the back of his neck. Most of the time, the man will clap a hand over that place in a comforting way, rubbing it with an absent thumb- but it has also more commonly used as a way to steer Stiles  _ away _ from trouble. It was grounding. He turns on the camera and snaps a shot of the sun filtering through the trees. 

Stiles follows the route he went last time with the Jeep. Straight into the belly of the preserve before the paths start to trail off into smaller ones made primarily by deer. There is a main road, like his father had said last time, but it mostly loops around the woods. He stops to check which way he’s supposed to take at a fork in the paths when the light catches something to his left. 

A spider web has been intricately woven between two branches on his immediate left. Without many hikers coming this far off the usual trails, it has had time to become large and beautiful. Stiles admires how meandering dewdrops from this morning still cling to the filmy strings that the spider in the middle of the web has created. 

He brings the camera up to his face, smiling a little. With his index finger, Stiles turns on the manual focus with practiced ease. 

When he’d first got this camera, this would have involved more fumbling. After years of using this camera, it’s like an extension of himself. Stiles has been told by his father a few times how unnaturally still he gets when he’s photographing things. He wonders what that must be like, to be an outsider who’s unable to follow his thoughts and not be feeling how this sight is simply paralyzing.

_ Of course _ he’s standing still. 

Otherwise the picture wouldn’t turn out- but also because this web is outrageously beautiful. The spider stays in her spot, a deadly queen in her palace of dew covered lace. It must be a new web, because there aren’t any insects in it yet. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty lady?” He murmurs, catching a few pictures of the web before zooming in on the spider. She’s so still he worries for a moment she’s not alive- but then she moves a little as a breeze rustles the branch above her. Stiles has to wait for her to stop moving again before he can get the shot he’s after, of up close of the spider in the middle of her web. 

He makes sure he gets more than one- there’s never enough when it’s the perfect shot. Dad always says that they all look the same whenever Stiles is going through them to decide which to keep and which to discard, but they all have a miniscule detail that usually changes how the whole picture comes across. 

“I hope I got your good side.” He says to her, smiling as he puts the camera down, letting it hang again but this time with a hand on it so it won’t swing. The breeze drifts by again and he leaves the spider to her administrations. Stiles continues on the trail, taking a break once he reaches the place where his Jeep broke down. 

The birch tree it had been nestled against before a tow had come to retrieve it hadn’t been damaged, he knows this because if it had been, his Jeep would have been the true victim of the collision. 

So it begs the question why, though Stiles is certain this is the right spot ( _ the tire tracks are still fresh _ ), the tree is marred with a few gashes. He lifts a hand and traces it over the shoulder height gash. 

There are a several of them, some have even peeled the bark off of it. He wonders why it’s there, perhaps someone was marking it to be cut down? He’s not sure but the vandalism on the tree must have to be new. Stiles thinks he would have noticed this last time. 

As they say, curiosity kill the cat; and so he snaps a shot of the markings in order to research them later.

The more he looks the more they look like  _ claw _ marks. But Stiles can’t think of any animals that would have paws big enough to spread out each mark, he measures them with his own palm spread out for reference. Stiles could barely connect each mark- something had to have needed  _ huge _ paws for this. Unless there was a huge bear in these woods, he wasn’t sure what it could have been.

Stiles doesn’t want to think about that very much so he tries not to. 

So  _ of course _ it’s all he can think of. Bears in the preserve, chilling out somewhere nearby and waiting to eat him. It’s stupidly a familiar feeling to the last time he was here- he doesn’t think that wolf would be able to make such marks though. 

“I’m so gonna die.” He says to himself, to comfort the silence. At least he hasn’t been jumped on yet. He’s not sure if he should confront the inkling of disappointment that he feels about that. 

Stiles gets a few more pictures of the bark before moving on. He’s not here just because of the wolf, he really had wanted more pictures. So when nearly an hour passes without the black furry canine making an appearance- Stiles tries not to be upset. For all he knew it was just passing through. 

Like Dad had said before,  _ there are no wolves in California. _

His stomach drops, like it had at the diner. It’s not impatience this time, no anxiety rushing through him insisting Stiles check around for the beautiful animal. This time his throat tightens a little as he lets the disappointment grip him.

The emotion is stronger than he’d expected for just some  _ dog _ he’d seen in the woods one day. 

Stiles takes a moment to clench his hands around the camera, his safety blanket, as he swallows a calming breath; if it shakes a little when he exhales- well there’s no one around to know. 

He gets a few more shots. A few of some leaves up close, one that turns out pretty nice with some dew still clinging to its surface where it had fallen on the pine-needle-strewn ground earlier. 

It’s almost physically painful as he forces himself to accept the beautiful wolf isn’t here now. Probably wouldn’t be coming back either. What was worse, was how his mind supplied stupid thoughts that were unlikely to expect of a wild animal. Such as, the wolf was maybe somewhere nearby, keeping watch and laughing at how stupid Stiles looked hoping to see it again; or maybe it had been scared off just like most others had been by his ridiculous compulsions to talk and fidget like a crackhead. 

_ Jesus _ .  _ It’s just an animal! It doesn’t read that far into emotional behaviours _ Stiles tells himself this, to ease the ache in his chest. 

He sighs loudly, choosing to walk a bit farther until he’s found himself a particularly large stump to sit on. It’s as good as any to set down his things. The tree that it belonged to must have been  _ huge _ because the stump alone must be five feet across. Infact, Stiles can easily lay on his back on the surface that has been polished by time. 

The old stump is beautiful, so he tries to commit this spot to memory- he thinks it would be nice to bring Dad here sometime. If the man would be willing to even go hiking. That might be a little unlikely since Dad probably would be opposed to most physically taxing activities after a long shift. Even though he was the sheriff, the man preferred to take a heavy workload to make it easier on his deputies.

Stiles didn’t particularly resent  it- afterall, Dad loved his job. But it did get lonely from time to time. Without Scott, Stiles is stricken with how little friends he actually  _ has _ in Beacon Hills. 

Sure, he  _ knows  _ people- Stiles knows lots of people. Some he knows from Dad’s files he sometimes leaves laying around. Some he’s just known since he was little because they’ve been here forever. 

But Scott had been Stiles’  _ person _ . His go-to guy. He never realized how co-dependent he’s been on Scott until now. 

Stiles glares up at the canopy. There’s a gap in the shade just over the stump- making Stiles wonder just how big the old tree must have been. Maybe it had to be cut down due to being old and people were worried it would be harmful? He wishes now that he could have seen it in its glory.

“I’m sure you were a beautiful tree.” He says. 

Surely by now, no one should be surprised that Stiles speaks to inanimate objects. He’s pretty sure most people do. In fact it almost seems strange to him when people find it weird that he  _ does _ . It’s actually a very common thing for people to do. 

He thinks how much Mom would have liked this spot, where he can see straight up to the blue sky and pick out shapes in the now encroaching clouds. They’re a welcome sight for his squinting eyes, his baseball hat only can protect his eyes so much. It’s only now that Stiles regrets not grabbing some sunglasses, because as he glances over to his bag to get his water he’s a bit disoriented by the sunspots dancing across his vision. With a groan, Stiles pulls out his water and downs almost half. The last thing he needs is to  _ actually _ get heatstroke. 

“This is private property.” 

_ HOLY-  _  Stiles chokes on his water, spit taking at the suddenly voice that came from behind him. “OH MY GOD!” He squawks as he coughs on the water, turning around to face the voice with a flail of arms and legs. “WHAT THE HELL, MAN?! Are you  _ trying _ to scare the shit out of me?!” Stiles barely registers what the guy said- because it’s definitely a guy - because he’s distracted by how startlingly handsome he is. In a way that he can’t help but notice even though he’s still trying to catch his breath after choking. 

The man is wearing a black leather jacket ( _ In this heat?!) _ , jeans and his hair is styled up out of his fair. A pale face with piercing pale eyes to match, Stiles can’t tell what color they are from the tree line where the man has  _ materialized _ out of nowhere. 

The guy also doesn’t look very impressed at all, crossing his arms and glaring  _ hard _ . Well  _ excuse him.  _ The preserve  _ isn’t _ private property, there’s only a small part that is, and that has been gated off with the rest of the Hale property-

Oh. “You’re… You’re Laura’s brother aren’t you?” He asks stupidly. Stiles can’t find any similarities between them, a smiling waitress with long brown hair and this frowning McGrumpy Guts in the leather don’t look related at all. 

McGrumpy Guts doesn’t look very pleased at the question. “Who are you?”  _ What is this? An interrogation? _

“Does it matter? I asked you first. If you’re going to scare the shit out of me, I think I at least get to know your name, dude.” He doesn’t get an answer, just a heavy sigh. “Look, man. This isn’t private property- all of that is gated in by the Old House. You can’t just kick me out of the entire preserve.” 

Apparently that’s the wrong thing to say, because the man approaches and subconsciously, Stiles backs away. He’s not scared, per say- but the frown on Grumpy’s face is a bit concerning.  _ I’m-willing-to-punch-you-in-the-face-and-drag-your-unconscious-body-out-of-the-woods  _ kind of concerning. He swallows audibly as the back of his knees hit the stump again. 

“The gate was taken down. For the contractors.” He’s acting as if saying so many words hurts him physically. Stiles narrows his eyes and meets the glare head on. 

“If you took it down then how was  _ I _ supposed to even know? What are you? Keeper of the woods?” 

“It’s still  _ private property _ .” 

“Oh  _ please _ . What are you going to do? Call the Sheriff?” 

“I might.” 

“Good luck with that.” Was it mature to play the Dad Card? Probably not. It’s not like Dad would be on Stiles’ side. The man was always more than fair when it came to Stiles getting into trouble, usually to make a point that he doesn’t allow favoritism ( _ his deputies on the other hand… most of them were considered family) _ . 

Stiles tries to remember what Laura’s brother’s name had been, but he can’t recall. He thinks the guy had been in highschool when the fire happened. One time their class had done a family heritage project- He starkly remembered Cora’s because it had been so much bigger than anyone else’s in their class. Compared to Stiles he’d been envious of her neverending abundance of family members. 

Or what had once  _ been _ . 

“What makes you think I won’t call the cops, then?”

“Oh no, it’s not that I don’t think you will- it’s that I’m pretty sure Jordan and Samantha are on duty today and they probably won’t do much about it.” The guy’s frown deepens more.

“How-”

“Look, I’ll back off alright? I get that you don’t want me on your property? But you can’t just kick people out of the preserve, it’s owned by the town. I’m _ legally allowed _ to be here.” 

“Then I’ll make a new sign.”

“You do that, Big Guy.” Stiles shrugs, letting his eyes flick down for a millisecond to notice the way his facial hair gives his jaw an almost grey color to his pale skin. They must have come back very recently because he can’t imagine staying that pale without either getting sunburned in this weather or tanning. He looks back up when the mouth twitches a little, as if fighting a smirk. 

Ugh.  _ What a dick _ . The man’s eyes, now that he is closer after having backed Stiles against the stump; seem to laugh at him in a way that the rest of his face doesn’t. _ And holy hell, it’s as if those eyebrows have a language of their own. _ Despite the  _ raging-asshole _ vibe he’s putting out, Stiles figures that if the guy really wanted to do something it would have already happened. 

Stiles had a habit of attracting trouble. He’d learned to read body language fairly well. 

Though Grumpy Guts was holding himself with a stiffness in his shoulders and clenched fists, he didn’t seem as if he was on the offensive here. Their silent glaring contest had encouraged the man to back off, though that might have been to reside back in the shade. In that jacket? Sitles didn’t blame him. 

“So you won’t leave?” He finally asks with what sounds like resignation. Stiles shrugs half heartedly. 

“I might.” Because if  _ he _ wanted to be a dick, then  _ Stiles  _ could be one too. “What’s in it for me?” Grumpy Guts raises a brow. 

“I don’t drag you off the property. By the neck.”  _ Oh, macho guy huh? _ Stiles can’t help but grin. 

“Oh, I dunno. I have a feeling you would do that anyways. I’ll have to turn the offer down.” Stiles wrinkles his nose at the man, taunting him. It’s not his fault that it’s been ages since someone could match his snark. 

“Listen,  _ kid _ -”

“ _ Excuse you-” _

“I don’t care if you kno-”

“No no, go back to the kid part. Do I  _ look _ like a  _ kid _ to you?” Okay so his pride was a little hurt on that one. He’s been working out! It’s not his fault he’s naturally skinny! Metabolisms wait for  _ no man _ . Alright? 

But  _ knows _ he doesn’t look  _ that _ young.  _ Fuck this guy _ . Just because Stiles doesn’t look what; 35? Like he does, doesn’t mean he’s a  _ kid.  _

“You  _ are _ a kid though.” Ouch. 

“ _ DUDE _ . I’m nearly twenty one! You say it like I’m fucking twelve!” Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s now up in this guy’s space, like the man had done to him before; until the sun isn’t in his face anymore. 

Grumpy Guts doesn’t look too pleased and holds out a hand, palm outward and pushes Stiles ( _ surprisingly in a gentle way that he doesn’t fall, only backs up a few steps _ ) back. He huffs a sigh that sounds more like a growl. 

_ Weird _ .

“Whatever. Stay here. But turn around and go the opposite direction when you leave. We don’t want anyone around the property.” It’s probably the most the guy has said so far, and the flared nostrils are Stiles’ hint that he might be pushing it if he antagonizes him further. 

“Fine.” Stiles huffs, crossing his arms similarly as Grumpy does.

“ _ Fine _ .”

“Glad we settled that then.” 

“Me too.” It’s like this guy feel the same compulsion as Stiles does to have the last damn word. Judging by how Grumpy Guts is backing up, back towards the direction he’d demanded Stiles avoid; this guy really thinks he’s going to ge it too. 

“Don’t forget to make your precious  _ sign _ .” He calls after the raven haired man, just as he’s turning his back. 

“Oh trust me,” He says with annoyance ringing clear in his tone as  he looks back at Stiles. “I won’t.” And why does this guy, whose name he doesn’t even know, look  _ so damn attractive _ when he’s mad. Stiles isn’t even  _ into _ guys. 

“I’ll be looking forward to it!” 

“I bet you will.” 

“Oh,” Stiles mutters at the retreating back, unable to look away as Grumpy melts into the trees on a small unmarked path that wasn’t recognizable unless you were looking for it- “ _ you have no idea _ .” 

Soon after, he does decide to respect Grumpy Guts’ wishes, if only because he still doesn’t put it past the guy to punch him out if pushed over the edge. Stiles had an uncanny habit of pushing people, but not really seeing the edge until the person has already been thrown off of it. 

High School had been a little messy in that respect. 

Stiles keeps to the southern side of the preserve. It was nearly four o’clock now, but the trek out of the preserve and then home would probably take an hour- so he plans to leave soon. Once he’s finished eating the leftovers from the diner he’d brought with him.

The large stump, even  _ if it is _ on private property, is a really nice spot to sit. Stiles already has plans to come back again, making sure he marks down on his google maps the spot he’s in. 

By five, the overcast skies the weather reporter had been predicting on the radio this morning has rang true- the blue sky from before is now crowded with clouds. Stiles is surprised by how quickly it goes from blazing summer heat to chilly so quickly, but he partially blames it on the once fortuitous shady canopy- that now shields him from the dulled heat from the sun wouldn’t mind bearing. The temperature has dropped by probably half that it was earlier. 

Hopefully, that doesn’t mean it will storm tonight. And if it does- he  _ really _ hopes it’s after he gets home. Stiles is regretting ignoring Dad’s warning to not walk to the preserve. Because now if he wants to try and get a drive home it would have to be through the station. Stiles has too much pride for that. He’s nearly  _ twenty-one _ and he’s most  _ definitely _ not a  _ kid _ . 

He can walk home on his own,  _ thank you very much. _

“Shit..” Still, it’s goddamn cold out.  _ Jesus _ . 

He’s grateful for the sweater he brought because though the shade had been nice when it had been 30 degrees out, now that the sun has hidden away behind an overcast that paints the blue skies grey- it’s not so welcome. He’s also hoping that if it  _ does _ rain, that the blue cotton will keep him relatively dry. 

He  _ almost  _ makes it, too. Stiles is just reaching the main road, maybe ten minutes away from leaving the preserve, when there’s a loud crack of thunder rolling above like a bowling ball has been thrown down an alley in a quiet room. 

“FUCK-”

_ Yeah _ . Suddenly he’s drenched, his camera is thankfully back in his bag, and  _ sweet baby Jesus! Isn’t summer rain supposed to be  _ warm?! 

It’s not. It’s fucking cold as hell and it’s coming down in buckets. Stiles really hopes that his backpack is more waterproof than this sweater, otherwise he’s not only going to need a new camera- but he’s going to need a new phone too. 

A phone that he’d stupidly put in the bottom of the bag and that he didn’t want to chance ruining with all the rain. To get to it, he’d have to take the camera out, and he doesn’t have the seven-hundred and fifty dollars to replace it. 

“Fuck fuck  _ fuck! _ ” Even worse than looking like a drowned rat is that he knows the moment he leaves the preserve he won’t have trees to protect him- even if they aren’t doing a great job of it at least it’s better than nothing. 

Swearing at the clouds doesn’t seem to be helping either, if the second rumble of thunder is anything to go by. The water pelts down in cold bullets that pound against the canopy, stuttering the waterflow from mangling the ground below, but only just. Stiles chews on his lip to distract himself from how stupid he’s feeling right now. Because he didn’t even get what he’d come here for. 

He hopes the wolf, if nearby, has some shelter tonight. 

Stiles focuses on his task at hand, reminds himself that it’s a  _ left not a right _ at the fork in the road and that  _ this path doubles back around take the other one _ . So that he doesn’t get lost. Because the preserve, while not huge- is still plenty big enough to get hopelessly lost. That’s really not on his agenda today- considering how he’s just about ready to throw in the towel and call his dad anyways. 

_ He’s not going to let this go _ , Stiles thinks to himself with a shudder. 

He lets himself stew on all the bullshit he’s going to have to listen to about ‘ _ blah blah blah, don’t go in the woods alone. Blah blah blah, I told you so.. _ ’ and so on and so forth. Dad will get a kick out of it- but at least Stiles won’t be caught in what seems to be a  _ fucking torrential downpour. _

“Get in.” Stiles hadn’t even been able to hear a car pulling up the main road, due to the overbearingly loud sound of thousands of leaves being pelted by the rain. It was as if someone had turned on a white noise machine. He looks to the voice, that has yelled over the rain- Grumpy Guts from before is in the driver’s seat of a sleek black camaro. It’s not him that has yelled though, but Laura Hale from the diner.

It’s the first time Stiles has seen her without her uniform. Suddenly it’s very easy to connect her and Grumpy as siblings. They both have dark clothes and the same high cheekbones. Stupidly, Stiles just stares at her for a moment. 

“What?” He calls back over the rain. She points to the back seat, speaking through the open window that’s getting her arm a little wet. 

“Get in the car! We’ll give you a ride!” She smiles that same sharp grin at him like this afternoon, but Stiles can’t help but look past her to the scowl on Grumpy’s face. 

“I… It’s fine. Just a little rain.” He says, gripping the straps tighter. As  _ in-your-face  _ as he’d been earlier, when meeting her brother, Stiles wasn’t actually too keen on being in a car with him. Laura doesn’t buy it, and with more insistence, he finally gets in, averting his eyes from her brother as he gets in the back. “Thanks.” 

“Of course. What were you doing out here anyways? Must have been pretty deep in to get caught in the rain.” She asks while Stiles relishes in the heat spilling out of the vents. He feels bad that he’s dripping all over their nice seats. 

Stile glances to Grumpy, who narrows his eyes at him through the rearview mirror. “Photography.” He says after a few moments of watching Laura’s brother drive carefully over the rough dirt road. Stiles couldn’t imagine taking something like that was so close to the ground on these roads. The Jeep took them like a champ but she was also a few feet off the ground unlike their Camaro. 

“Oh really? That’s pretty cool. You should come by the diner sometime and show me.” Stiles feels a little twist in his gut, which has been feeling like it was full of rocks since he got in the car, loosen a little. At least she was keeping the conversation going, though he wasn’t keen on showing his pictures to anyone who wasn’t close. To some people, pictures were just pictures- but to Stiles they were personal. They were a story that was told through his eyes. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” He replies, with no intention of really following through with it. His eyes fall back to the road. A flash of lightning plays against the clouds just as they enter town. 

“Which way?” 

“You can just drop me by the station.” It was closer than his house was, and he didn’t want to make them go too far out of their way. He ignores the way Grumpy raises a brow at him. He’s probably put together the idle threat from earlier about the police with this. It’s not hard to come to the parental cop conclusion with that. 

“Are you sure? We don’t mind taking you home. You should probably change out of those wet clothes.” Laura asks, glancing back. 

There’s something about the way she tilts her head and meets his eyes that has Stiles agreeing and telling them his address before he can help it. He’s overwhelmed with this weird compulsion that he shouldn’t be looking so directly into her blue eyes, but he doesn’t drop her stare until she’s turning back in her seat. 

“You remember where that is, Derek?” 

Grumpy- or  _ Derek _ grunts an answer. The name doesn’t really ring a bell, but he’s certainly going to check his yearbooks when he gets home. 

Stiles still thinks Grumpy Guts is a perfectly great name anyways. 

The rest of the drive is silent, and it grinds on Stiles’ nerves as he tries to keep his hands from fidgeting too much. He’s grateful for the ride but he feels awkward as hell being in the same car as the guy who had yelled at him earlier for just walking in the woods. 

He makes sure to thank them when they drop him home, and can’t seem to stop thinking about them the rest of the evening. Stiles goes on a research binge but he can’t seem to find any photographs of a  _ Derek Hale _ or even a  _ Laura Hale _ on the school database. 

Stiles wonders if he can check on the police database later if he claims its for school research. It doesn’t always win out, but he  _ is _ taking a criminal justice course next semester. He might be able to get away with it. 

That night, around maybe midnight, he  _ swears _ he can hear howling. When he tries to record it, it doesn’t quite come out right. It makes all hope of forgetting about that wolf wash away. 

Derek Hale isn’t even on his mind anymore. Instead of sleeping, Stiles finds himself in a wikipedia hole, spending the next four hours studying wolf behaviours and packs. If there is a wolf in Beacon Hills, Stiles is determined to find it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a COMMENT or some KUDOS if you liked this! 
> 
> I would love to hear from you guys! What do you think will happen next? Should this get turned into a full fledged fic? WHO KNOWS!
> 
> also feel free to ask me questions on tumblr! misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Stiles wanted was some peace and quiet to think and read a book. The mysterious wolf that he can't stop thinking about has got other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest, this chapter didn't go the way I planned. Originally the wolf POV was going to be short but then alas, I got lost in the scene. Fret not! I've decided to continue writing this but it will be less often as 'You're the Blood On My Lips" 
> 
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> Drop by and say hi on tumblr too! misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com

The jeep takes longer than the  _ few days _ Mo promised him, but Stiles isn’t too upset about it. At least he’s not, until he’s sitting on the other end of a berating call from his father. One of the deputies had snitched on him clearly, from the tone Stiles was suffering through. 

_ See if Parrish ever gets to have any of Stiles’ famous lasagna again. Traitor. _

“What did I tell you about going out there alone, Stiles?”

“That it was stupid?” He sighs, squinting up at the canopy that’s sheltering him through the bitching heat he’d had to walk through. Compared to the sidewalk trek he’d powered though, the preserve felt nice and cool. 

“And where are you right now?”

“In the preserve…” A squirrel hops across the trail ahead, pausing to look at Stiles as if it’s just as done with this phone call as he is. 

“And did you bring anyone  _ with  _ you?” Dad sighs in that way that Stiles just  _ knows _ he’s rubbing his eyes tiredly. He almost feels bad about it-  _ almost. _

_ Hey. Dad didn’t  _ have _ to police his extracurriculars. He was choosing to. Ergo, Stiles was allowed to be an ass since his dad had started it. Maturity and all that. Rising to a challenge.  _

“Yes.” Stiles snarks, smirking at the squirrel as it jumps off the trail while he follows a path nearly committed to memory now. 

“Really?”

“ _ No- _ but-”

“Stiles…”

“Just listen! Okay? I’m an adult! I should be allowed to go into the preserve alone. I’m a big boy dad.”

“Mhm. Sure. And how are you going to get home? What if you get hurt? Who’s going to call for help if-”

“Alright! Okay! Would you just- Jesus Dad! Breathe! I’ll be fine!” Honestly, what did the guy take Stiles  _ for _ ? A walking trip to the emergency room?  _ (It only happened twice, okay? And both times it was definitely  _ not _ his fault) _

“I don’t like you being out there alone.”

“I have my phone if anything happens.”

“And-”

“And a first aid kit, yes.  _ And _ my phone charger.  _ And  _ my pepper spray. Congrats, you’re more worried about your son going into the woods than to college. Satisfied?”

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Ever since thursday Dad has been on edge. Apparently there was a mountain lion that came down near the far reaches of Beacon Hills’ county lines. The sheriff has been on Stiles’ case to stay out of the preserve since then. As a result, it’s the first time in about a week and a half that he’s been able to sneak away. 

He just needs some space to  _ think _ . 

Scott’s been basically AWOL all summer, and even hung up on Stiles in the middle of their call yesterday because something about ‘delivering baby rats’ and  _ ew _ -

Stiles should be important enough to at least get a goodbye before his brother goes off delivering rats that will probably end up in either a pet store or test lab. But  _ no no _ \- Scott has better things to do. Girlfriends to hang out with and talk to and do all the stuff they do without stiles because stiles stupidly decided to come home for the stupid summer-

Yeah. He just really needs a spot to chill out. Other than his house, because it makes him feel like a loser to hangout there when no one is home and all he has to do is drown his sorrows in cheetos and CoD. 

The preserve was a perfect place for that. He didn’t have his camera this time though, and maybe he lied about having the pepper spray with him; but Stiles  _ has _ brought a lunch and a book and was currently following the path that lead him to that big stump the last time he’d been here. 

He absolutely does  _ not _ think about Derek McGrumpyPants and his stupidly well fitting jeans. Who even  _ wears _ leather jackets and jeans when it was the middle of July? It’s a little impressive that the guy hadn’t collapsed of heatstroke yet. 

Stiles tilts his head back up to check on the clear skies above. He’d made sure that there were no  _ surprise rainstorms _ on the way that he’d need to swim his way out of the preserve from. Stiles was  _ not _ keen on having a repeat of that  _ very  _ awkward drive home the Hale siblings had given him. If it weren’t for Laura he has no doubt Derek would have just driven right by him without a second thought. 

What did he care? Derek  _ Shmerek _ .

Stiles couldn’t even remember the color of his stupid green eyes anymore. He didn’t care about the obvious threats to his health that leather jacket served for Derek. If the guy wants to melt into a puddle of snark who was Stiles to save him?

The stump is just a big as last time. It’s mossy roots twist down into the ground like complicated puzzle pieces that make sense in a way he can’t decipher. To him they just look like gnarled lumps dipping in and out of the ground around the stump. Stiles smiles as it comes into view, setting his backpack onto the smooth surface and sitting down. 

Despite Dad wanting him to stay away, and Hale bothering him that it was private property ( _ there’s still no sign _ ) the preserve really was the only place Stiles wanted to be today. Plans with for next week Scott have fallen through again and all he got for explanation was something about meeting his girlfriend’s parents.

It’s fine though. He’s not mad, he’s all for his bro being happy and finding a girl after the whole epic Allison debacle of senior year in high school. Scott deserves to be happy. Even if that means ditching his bestest friend and  _ brother _ all summer- 

So maybe Stiles was a  _ little  _ pissed off. 

It didn’t matter though, because he was sitting in a gorgeous clearing with no bestfriends turning him down time after time or fathers prattling on about mountain lions. It was just the rustling leaves from an ever-present whisper of a breeze and the various critters around him chattering away. They didn’t have a care in the world for anyone but themselves, Stiles decided to take from that cue and pushed all his worries away. 

He pulls out his book and opens up to the page he was on. Usually, Stiles likes to read big literary novels that they make you read in university english classes for fun. Today he’s decided to step away from works like  _ The Grapes of Wrath _ and  _ A Hundred Years of Solitude _ though; in favor of an old favorite:  _ The Hunger Games _ . 

Time passes different when you’re reading a book. The preserve fades away to  _ District 12 _ and Katniss is narrating her life to Stiles. He can see visions as it happens, of a dystopian land where people sacrifice two children for the sake of their district’s survival. There’s probably deeper meanings to a lot of the story- but Stiles doesn’t take to analyzing right now. Right now he lets Suzanne Collins do the story telling. 

He’s so absorbed in his book that he doesn’t have to focus on  _ not _ thinking about Scott because he’s too caught up reading about Katniss and her sister. If Stiles had been paying attention he probably would have noticed how the chattering birds and squirrels had dimmed out, the way they had nearly two weeks ago. 

***

It’s not like the wolf just out and pounces on him like last time. That time, it had been because the boy was intruding on his territory. This time, the wolf watches. He watches because this boy is not strange and smells like the  _ bad plant _ that his alpha had saved him from. This boy- no- this  _ man _ sits on the nemeton like it’s nothing more than a fucking chair. He has no clue that he’s sitting on what was once a supernatural beacon of life. 

The wolf feels nervous just watching an outsider lounge around on it so carelessly, he and Laura still have no idea if the nemeton still works anyways. It could be harmless- but it also might not be. 

The man turns a page, and when a breeze billows through, the wolf catches a cloud of jumbled scents all at once. The ones of trees, damp sun-soaked grass and dirt are filtered out along with pesky squirrels that like to make him chase for hours at the trees. They’re pushed away as he lifts his head from his hiding place to smell that alluring scent that brought him to the man that first time- a sharp pointed smell that reminded him of copper and cinnamon, with some kind of lemon/flowery odor under it.  

The wolf wants to come closer, to figure out just  _ how _ those smells all blend together like that to create a concoction that equals this man- but for now he stays, watching from the grass that hides him well in the shadows of loaming trees. 

***

Katniss is training for the arena when Stiles’ stomach reminds him of the real world. He groans as he lifts his head and his neck twinges. 

“Fuck…” Stiles draws out as he stretches, tilting his head this way and that to try and aleve the kink. The stump might be nice and smooth, but it’s still made of wood and his ass is completely numb too. He’d be more annoyed about that but he’s got a ham sandwich waiting for him.

His Scott problems have drifted off somewhere after Katniss had volunteered as tribute, and Stiles thinks it’s probably for the best. Sure, he misses Scott. But he really does want his bro to be happy. Maybe he’ll just go back to the city early for school and they’ll see each other then. 

_ Man, maybe he should just get an apartment already. That way he wouldn’t need to isolate himself during the summer until graduation. _

The thought comes and goes fairly quick though, because he doesn’t think his dad would cope well without the promise of these three months with his son. John Stilinski didn’t say it directly but it was getting lonely in such an empty house during the school year. He’d also shoot himself in his own foot if Stiles held himself back for his sake- they have this weird game they play where they both act as if they don’t know how worried they really are for each other. Stiles makes his dad eat healthier, dad stocks stiles up with any supplies he might need whenever he visits home via sneaking it into the jeep when Stiles isn’t looking. 

Stiles pulls out his sandwich, frowning at how the bread has gotten squashed in his bag just a bit. He should have gone with a plastic tupperware dish. Oh well. It’ll taste the same. 

Only… 

It  _ probably _ would have tasted the same. He doesn’t know, because a black blur rushes out from the trees and grabs his lunch before he gets the damn chance!

“SON OF A-” Sure enough, the wolf is there, swallowing his poor sandwich whole like the little thief it was. “Hey! That was mine, asshole!”

He should be much more wary of a big wolf with sharp teeth but really- they’ve played this game once. He’d read online that wolves were more scared of humans than they were of wolves. He’s kind of banking on that in case it gets bad. That, or Stiles could always just run for it. Maybe he’ll run into Derek and the wolf will eat him instead. 

“Listen here, asshole, you just stole my lunch. Not cool.” It just looks over with this- dare Stiles say,  _ smug _ fucking look. “You little- you’re a thief. You know that? I should put you in wolfy jail for that.” 

The wolf is gorgeous, just like last time. It’s strangely  _ blue _ blue eyes are still as vivid as last time. He’d done some research, and now knows that eyes that bright are definitely unheard of. A pale ice blue, maybe. Even deep oceanic blues weren’t uncommon. But the color of the wolf’s eyes- this wolf’s eyes were sapphire blue, a bright color that almost seemed to  _ glow _ . 

“You don’t even feel bad about it, do you?” He sighs when the black wolf approaches slowly, snuffling his hands and towards his belly. It tickles a bit, when the wet nose tries to get under his shirt. “Hey-” He squawks with a laugh, pulling back down his white shirt. “Quit that! I don’t have anymore!”  _ Sadly. _

It snuffles his stomach a little longer, but Stiles holds out a hand to stop the wolf when it jumps up onto the stump with him. It’s like the wolf thinks Stiles can produce sandwiches out of his ears or something because it only stops investigating his hairline and neck when it has confirmed Stiles doesn’t have any more ham on him. 

“Jeez- hey that’s my-” And  _ seriously _ this wolf is a menace, isn’t he? It’s holding his book now, slobber getting all over Suzanne Collins’ work. “ _ Dude _ -” Stiles reaches for the book but the wolf leaps away, tails high and waving back and forth. 

It’s like it thinks this is a game. 

“Oh no. No no. I’m not going to chase you around. Drop the book. C’mon-” He makes another grab, falling on the ground from where he’d been sitting when the wolf dances away again with the book still latched tight in his teeth. “Oh  _ come on! _ ” 

The wolf bows down, tail in the air as those big blue eyes watch him carefully. Stiles recognizes it from the K9 dogs at the station when they’re off duty, that’s the ‘ _ come and get it so I can run away’ _ stance. He’s not going to fall for it. 

He  _ isn’t.  _

He so falls for it. In his defense though, that book had cost him over twenty bucks and it’s hardcover! He’s still a student for Christ’s sake, he doesn’t have the budget to replace nice books just because some dick decided to play fetch with it. 

“Come here you-” Stiles barely touches the cover and before the wolf takes off. He really shouldn’t chase a wolf. Not only was it a dangerous predator- but it was also much  _ faster than him _ . 

He crashes through the brush behind the wolf, never taking his eyes off that tail. It’s the only part he can see every time he gets close enough. 

“Come back here! Son of a bitch!” He yells, nearly braining himself on a branch or two as he chases after this damn  _ mutt _ . What kind of asshole steals a guys lunch  _ and _ his book? This wolf was a fucking kleptomaniac. 

***

The man is as clumsy as pup on their first moon. It’s funny really, how he crashes so brashly through the paths after the wolf. It lets the man get  _ just _ close enough that he doesn’t get lost. Playing tag is only fun if you are with someone, and Laura has been far too busy since their last moon to go running. 

The wolf bounds over tree roots and over logs easily, listening to it’s pursuer with ears that are standing up at attention. The man is faster than he thought, there are not a lot of humans who can keep up with the wolf, though that might be because the wolf does not have any human friends. 

All his human friends are gone now, as are his old pack and alpha. But he has his Laura. She makes a good alpha, so the wolf does not mind it so much. It feels so freeing to be  _ home _ . This is the territory he was born on, raised on and will eventually die on. The wolf wishes he could howl to Laura to call her, to have her join their run- but the man’s book is in the way. 

The man does a lot of howling for the both of them though, and it spurs him on. The wolf wants to keep going but soon enough the human is slowing down. The wolf waits for him, just shy of the place where he’d first smelled the man. The wolf had followed it all the way to the nemeton where the man would sit like it was soft careless grass. It trots back to the thundering heartbeat that has stopped moving along the trail the wolf had carved out for them. It still smells a little like deer, but the wolf is the one who’s been through it more often. 

“You… are… such an asshole.” The man complains when the wolf finds him again, braced over a fallen log. 

The wolf doesn’t know if the man is angry, so he tilts his head. 

“When I… catch my breath… You’re so dead…” The wolf huffs, because this pup is clearly lying. He doubts the man will hurt him, and that sharp smell lures him just close enough that he can get a better sniff. The copper and cinnamon, with parts of lemon and flowers has more smells laced into it that the wolf doesn’t recognize. He wants to sit there and investigate it for a few hours, maybe scent the man so others know it’s  _ his _ human now. 

He likes it when the man drops a hand to his head, and the scratches are sooooooo good-

“A _ ha! _ ” The sound startles the wolf, he flinches back with a snort of displeasure before looking at the man. He’s holding the book the wolf stole, now dripping and marked with his teeth.  _ Good _ . Now the man will have his scent on him. 

But then- the man tries to  _ leave _ . The wolf doesn’t want the man to leave, he wants to continue their run. Clearly the only way to do that is to get back the book…

“Oh no no no- Don’t even  _ think _ about it. You keep your wolfy paws off of my book!” The man holds it up over his head, dangling it up there as if the wolf won’t be able to reach it. Pah. 

What does he take the wolf for? A  _ terrier? _

It’s not even hard to knock the man over, really. If you’re going to dangle something so high up, the wolf would expect him to because to handle a bit of pushing. All it takes is the wolf jumping up and pushing the human down onto his back. The wolf lets out a chuff when it squawks in protest. 

“You bitch!” He scowls but it’s lost in the happy scent the wolf can smell coming off his collar. The coppery cinnamon smell is intoxicating up close, and tastes a little salty when he greets the man properly. The wolf makes sure to keep his teeth to himself though, he can almost hear his mama’s growl when he almost nips the man. 

But the wolf will not hurt him, he just wants to play. The man is a good friend to play with, because he doesn’t hide in the trees like the squirrels do and he’s not fast enough to tackle him like Laura does. 

“You’re such a bully, and heavy. How are we in this situation again?” The man seems to talk alot, but that okay. Because while the man talks his long fingers are scritching the wolf’s ears. It feels very nice. He grumbles in approval, settling on top of the man. The wolf is also pleased to see that the human doesn’t seem to have any problems with submitting to him, because he’s basically got his mouth on the humans neck and the man doesn’t react at all. 

It’s also worrying because what if he’s this naive around  _ all _ wolves? This human is kind of stupid, really. 

“If only you were a human then maybe I could at least get laid- Jesus. Are you taking a nap? You really are a dick, y’know that?” 

The wolf just grumbles in return, pressing his head into those talented fingers. 

 

“No seriously, get up, c’mon. I’m going to get bug bites on the ground like this.” He squirms and tries to get away, reminding the wolf why he tackled his human in the first place. 

The book. 

He scrambles up, because not only does he want to get the man to run some more  _ (honestly, this silly man needs the exercise anyways) _ but the man also almost knees him in the abdomen and it’s not fantastic. So the wolf picks up the book, it smells like him and ink.

“Fuck- you- don’t-” The man stumbles around and the wolf snorts at him. 

_ Exactly like a pup. _ It’s hilarious that this man is worse at getting to his feet that a pup on black ice. He wags his tail playfully while he waits, making sure he catches the human’s eye before taking off through the brush again. 

“A menace!” The man howls  behind him as the wolf runs. He chuffs loudly but it’s lost around the book in his mouth. Sure enough though, the crashing uneven steps start up again behind him and the man has given chase. 

It’s exhilarating. The dirt beneath his paws is the perfect amount of softness, not muddy but not too dry that it scratches at this feet. The air is damp with rain that is due in a few days, but it’s not too hot for his thick pelt, because his territory is perfect, and the trees protect him from the too hot sun unlike their old territory. That place didn’t have enough trees and no good places to run. 

The wolf likes this territory, the one that he was born and raised on, much more than the one they’d carved out just big enough for their den in the place filled with hard black rock everywhere and suns that flickered and blotted out the stars. Some nights he couldn’t even make out the moon there, it had been a place that stunk of hundreds of smells and worst of all- the stench of grief that clung to him and his alpha as they had wallowed. 

But they’re here now. And this is home. In the trees and bushes with the squirrels that hide in the trees and men that run with him.

“ _ Seriously! _ ” The man cries out, and the wolf listens but he’s keeping up pace just fine. He slows down as they inch closer to his den, Laura didn’t want anyone there, because it was their den. But the wolf thinks that maybe that just this once, it might be okay. He pauses too long and the human catches up, grabs a hold of the book and growls at him. “Drop it.” 

The wolf growls back, because he likes this game too, but it’s one mama never let him play with humans, because it was too rough. He remembers mama telling him how people were breakable, and didn’t have teeth to grab with. 

“I get it, you want to play. I’ll throw you a stick or something just-” The man is breathless, the wolf thinks that he looks good with flushed cheeks. “Drop the damn book, alright?”

If it weren’t for the whine in his voice, the wolf would never have given back the book. He wants to keep it, bury it somewhere in the den so he can keep the complicated smell of this man to himself where Laura can’t find it. 

But those big brown eyes are  _ exactly _ like a pup’s and he’s weak to it. So he lets the book be pulled carefully out of his mouth, but not without a disappointed huff. He likes the man, and when he starts to walk back to the nemeton, the wolf decides that he wants to have this man in his pack. 

He has a feeling that Laura won’t be happy about it, so he’ll have to warm her up to it. Human’s especially ones like this pup, were breakable and  _ dangerous _ . But this one doesn’t want to hurt him. And he doesn’t smell like the  _ bad plant _ so the wolf decides that for now they will be friends. When he leaves, because he can hear Laura back at the den- the wolf wonders if he’ll be forgotten by the man. 

The wolf won’t give him the chance though, he’s already covered him in his scent anyways. Even if he washes it off it’s over that book now. The wolf walks back with a tail held high, any other wolf who thinks that they can bother  _ his _ human will have to deal with him. 

And the wolf does  _ not _ share well.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Too short? Too different? What do you want to happen next? Let me know below in the COMMENTS!!
> 
> Leave some KUDOS if you liked it and don't be shy to come say hi on tumblr! misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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